


Unbelonging

by allthings



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Angst, Dark, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Sibling Incest, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthings/pseuds/allthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rated <b>Mature</b> for: language, <i>implied</i> sibling incest, mention of m/m sexual situations.</p><p>This was not where he belonged. Not where any of them belonged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbelonging

**Author's Note:**

> I love dark Narnia fics, and wanted to explore the various ways their experiences in Narnia would fuck up the Pevensies after their return 'home'. I plan to write a couple more in a similar vein.

Edmund sat, staring out at the rain, dagger-like droplets hurtling towards the ground from steely clouds.

This was not where he belonged.

In Narnia even the rainiest days were beautiful. Everything felt alive. Here was but a pale and washed out imprint of There. Even the brightest, sunniest day when children ran along the streets shrieking with laughter seemed somehow cloudy and dull. How could they ever come to love this world, where things were so still, where people walked on through the fog unaware of that shimmering world that existed somewhere just out of reach. He pitied the people here, was disgusted by them, and envied them in their oblivion.

Everything ached inside him. Ached for a life he might as well have never lived. Maybe he didn’t live it at all, and it had all been some elaborate dream. Sometimes, when he looked at Susan, absorbed as she was in living her ‘normal’ life, he could start to believe this. But then he’d turn to Peter, or Lucy, and he’d wonder how he could even have begun to forget.

One day he’d found Peter behind the bikesheds, another boy knelt between his legs. Edmund was suspended when the boy stumbled into the school building, blood streaming from a broken nose.

“What the hell, Peter, you’re above this. You were a High King!”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not anymore. And I don’t recall asking you to tell me how to live my life.”

“Fuck you.”

Peter had stayed off school until his black eye healed.

When Edmund wasn't fighting, and Peter doing who-knows-what, with other boys, they were fighting with each other, thrashing about in a frenzy of limbs, throwing punches just feel each other's skin. How could anyone else even hope to understand.

They’d been Kings and Queens once, hadn’t they?

“Don’t be silly.” Susan’s eyes took on an unfocused glaze when he looked to her for confirmation.

On Lucy’s good days she seemed filled with a contentment he could only marvel at. She’d tell them to be thankful for the gift of their experiences, tell them to trust in Aslan, put their hearts in his hands. On her bad days she scared them all with her nonchalance at life, and one of them would take the day off school to sit with her and make sure she remembered to eat. On these days he hated Aslan, hated him with the same passion he’d once loved him. How easy it was to switch between the two.

Thrown back into a world they had no control over, children's bodies bursting with the minds of adults who had experienced more power than was good for them. Was this really Aslan’s plan? Sometimes he’d think he heard a lion’s roar, but it would quickly melt into the rush of a passing train, clattering wheels over cobblestones, the rumble of thunder.

This wasn’t him. This wasn’t any of them. But they’d keep on trying to pretend it was, pretending until they were called Home.


End file.
